


garden of eden

by allechant



Series: adversary of god [4]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, F/M, Sexual Tension, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allechant/pseuds/allechant
Summary: [no rad au] he was the serpent who had lured her out of paradise. she ought to hate him, but she didn't.
Relationships: Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: adversary of god [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739809
Comments: 20
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a long day at work, and she was exhausted.

Her boss had dumped a new project on her today. With very little context and a teammate notorious for delivering haphazard work, she had no idea how she was going to meet the two-week deadline, and honestly, she was stressing out.

It didn’t help that HR sent an email about their performance bonuses, and despite the long hours and the hard work she put in the past year, her bonus was laughable. Meanwhile, the aforementioned teammate got a promotion and a pay raise even though he hadn’t done _anything_ of importance. He didn’t even lead a project!

She was pretty sure it was because he was fucking around with their boss’ superior. Men sucked. The company sucked. She should just resign from her damn job.

Her head was pounding as she leant against the wall, waiting for the lift to reach her floor. She hoped her boyfriend had remembered to heat last night’s leftovers. If he couldn’t even get _that_ right, she might have a meltdown.

There was a ding and the doors slid open. She stepped out of the lift, reaching up to knead her shoulder – she could feel the tension underneath her fingers, and she thought it might be a good idea to schedule a massage. She’d have to take a look at her budget for this month. There was a really good place down the street…

Her thoughts trailed away when she noticed an unfamiliar pair of heels outside her apartment. Immediately suspicious, she took out her phone and checked her texts – nothing from her friends, nothing from her boyfriend either. But…maybe she was wrong? Maybe she was overthinking? Her heart thudded in her chest as she took out her key, slowly unlocking the front door. Luckily, she had just oiled the hinges, and the door opened without a sound.

The first thing she heard when she stepped inside the apartment was the sound of a woman moaning, and she froze on the threshold, unable to move, unable to think. She could barely even breathe. A second later, the moan became a breathless cry, and then she heard the woman call her boyfriend’s name.

Suddenly seized by blinding, overwhelming rage, she stormed in the direction of the master bedroom, where she _shared_ a bed with her good-for-nothing boyfriend and threw open the door to see him pounding into a woman wearing _her_ favourite silk robe. Both of them turned to look at her, their eyes wide.

She didn’t say a word. She just reached for the nearest object, which happened to be a hairbrush, and threw it at her boyfriend. He yelped, jumping away from the bed, just barely missing the brush. She took her bag off her shoulder and began swinging it wildly, trying her best to hit him while the woman screamed and crawled back against the pillows, attempting to cover herself with the blanket.

“You’re crazy!” he shouted, scrambling away from her as she aimed the bag at his head. She saw his limp dick flopping around and she would very much like to chop it off, but luckily for him, there was nothing sharp in the vicinity. “You’re fucking insane!”

“ _You_ were the one cheating on me with _her_!” she screamed, opening her bag and throwing the items inside at him – he narrowly dodged a black binder and a tube of lip balm. “You’re a useless piece of shit, you can’t even hold down a job and now you decide to go around sticking your dick in whatever hole you can find? I should just _kill_ you!”

“Oi! Murder is illegal!” he yelled back, but she was beyond reasoning at this point – she couldn’t even direct her anger at the other woman, she was so sick and tired of _giving_ all the time and never getting anything in return. This was the last straw.

“I _am_ going to kill you.” She shot the woman a look. “Take that off and get the fuck out of here.” The woman hastily disrobed and gathered up her clothes, running out of the room – when her boyfriend tried to slip past her while she was distracted, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, filled with a sudden strength she didn’t even know she possessed. “Who said you’re allowed to leave?” she snapped.

“Babe, it was a mistake, I swear it didn’t even mean anything.” He tried to explain, but she was in no mood for his excuses today. It had been a shitty, tiring day and all she wanted after work was a nice warm meal and maybe some time to unwind and catch up with her favourite shows. But of course, this day had to get even worse.

“You thought I was coming home late tonight and decided to fuck someone else in our bed,” she said, her fingers tightening around him. He tried to pull away, but she was so angry that she didn’t even notice him struggling. “You know, I heard when cats and dogs get neutered, they lose their sex drive. Maybe I should neuter you too.”

“H-hey, don’t get any funny ideas. I’m sorry, okay? I know I fucked up!” He sounded panicky, but she just smiled, marching out of the room with him in tow. The woman was already gone from the living room – thankfully for her because she didn’t know what she might have done if she was still around. “Oi! Stop! This isn’t a fucking joke!”

She stopped and turned to stare at him. “So, our relationship is a joke, then?” she asked, keeping her voice as cool and neutral as possible. The rage still boiled within her, and it took everything she had to not lunge forward and wrap her hands around his scrawny throat. _Asshole_. “The allowance I give you, the meals I cook for you, the time I try to spend with you even though you know how _busy_ I am – all this is a joke?”

“No, I appreciate you, babe, I do. But you’re taking things _way_ too seriously,” he babbled, seemingly convinced that he could talk his way out of this. “You know what it’s like being an artist! You need to get inspiration from all kinds of sources!”

“Oh, right! Inspiration! From cheating on your loyal girlfriend of _eight years_!”

She tried to drag him to the kitchen where all the knives were so she could make good on her promise to neuter him, but he latched onto the couch and refused to budge, so in the end, they just ended up screaming at each other and she told him to get the hell out of the apartment and never come back.

He grabbed a towel hanging off the back of a chair and wrapped it around his waist, running out without a second glance. She glared at his back and slammed the door, then leant against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. What a shitty day. Now that he was gone, the anger felt so…hollow.

She was still angry. Not just at him, but at herself for being so trusting. For giving in all the time. Her friends told her that he was an asshole, and she always defended him because…well, they’d been together since high school and it just felt like the right thing to do. She loved him, and he loved her. Or at least she thought he did.

If she had to be honest, she knew their relationship was a complete mess. Ever since he graduated from college, he kept telling her that he would find his big break, that his art would be displayed in museums all over the world someday. But all she saw him do was laze around at home; once in a while he’d work on some project that he would then abandon in the living room. His only saving grace was that he _did_ help with the rent, though usually, his contributions didn’t make up even a third of the amount they needed.

But it was so much easier to just stay in a lousy relationship than to be single. It was nice to come home to someone, and anyway, she never had the time to put up an ad for another roommate. Not that she had a choice now, anyway. There was no way she could afford to pay the rent on her own.

Opening her eyes, she walked to the kitchen, deciding to heat the leftovers from last night’s dinner. She was pretty sure that asshole didn’t listen to her request this morning, but whatever. She was used to men letting her down anyway.

But before she stepped into the kitchen, she heard the sound of glass breaking and she froze – was there someone inside? Did that woman not leave the apartment? She just wanted to have a meal and some alone time. It wasn’t a complicated wish, so why did life keep testing her? She was about _this_ close to snapping.

“If you’re still here, I recommend you get the fuck out –” Her tongue stopped working when she entered the kitchen and saw, instead of the asshole’s side chick or whatever the hell she was, a blond man with bright green eyes that almost glowed. He was leaning against the countertop, watching her expectantly, almost as though he _knew_ she would come into the kitchen. As though he was waiting for her.

“Who are you?” Her mouth felt disconnected from her brain. Her mind was going at a million miles per hour – _should I call the police? How did he get in here? Is he the asshole’s friend? No, I don’t think I’ve seen him before. Is he a robber? I don’t even own anything of value._ Then one final thought – _he’s too beautiful to be human._

The stranger tilted his head, smiling at her – it was a warm, pleasant smile, but there was something _off_ about it, and she felt a shiver run down her back. He took a step away from the counter, and suddenly everything within her was screaming at her to get out, to get away from him, but she was rooted to the spot. He approached her with all the feline grace of a big cat cornering its prey, and unbidden thoughts of her family sprang to mind. She wondered if she would ever get to see them again.

He was dangerous. “You don’t know who I am?” he asked, shaking his head a little. “You were the one who summoned me, though. With that delicious _rage_ of yours. It would be so very, very nice,” he whispered, “if you could take this knife and just run it through him, wouldn’t it?” The man held out a hand and she watched, amazed as an ornate dagger materialised on his palm, its hilt encrusted with sparkling jewels.

“It’s a cursed dagger,” he explained, noticing her interest. “It grants one true death by disintegrating both the body and the soul, thus ensuring its victims cannot go to either Heaven or Hell. It’s the loneliest, most cruel of punishments. But he deserves it, doesn’t he?” His voice softened into a croon, almost melodious. “You were far too good for him. He didn’t understand what he had, couldn’t appreciate the effort you put into supporting him and his career. Instead, the moment your back was turned, he found another woman and took her in _your_ bed. The shame.”

He had an enchanting voice. So mesmerising, just like him. His green eyes glittered, and her feet moved of their own accord, bringing her closer to the beautiful man – her hand reached for the dagger, its sharp blade singing to her. “The shame,” she echoed, the rage and resentment she had bottled up for so long bubbling within her. “He deserves it. He does. After everything I’ve done for him.”

She didn’t know if she was agreeing with the man or if she was trying to convince herself. The man looked at her steadily, silently daring her to take the blade from his palm. She hesitated over the hilt, her fingers trembling. It was a stunning thing, deadly but gorgeous. Much like its owner, who held it out to her with a placid smile on his face. It would be ridiculously simple to just reach out and grab it. But she was shaking.

“What do you want in return?” she asked. It was too strange, too good to be true. He was too perfect, and she reminded herself that men couldn’t be trusted.

He chuckled. “You’re perceptive, aren’t you?” Then he paused. “I don’t blame you for being cautious. But you know perfectly well who I am. You’ve simply forgotten.”

He sounded so disappointed. She shouldn’t feel guilty – she truly had never seen this man before – but for some reason, she felt terrible about not recognising him. “Just close your eyes and think,” he whispered, stepping so close that he filled up her vision – she tipped her head back and stared at him, her breath frozen in her lungs. “If you pray hard enough, the answer might come back to you.”

If she prayed. Was he an angel? No, probably not – he _looked_ like one, but there was a distinct aura of danger around him, one that didn’t seem angelic at all. Yet she felt compelled to listen to him, and she closed her eyes, wondering what to pray for. His distinctive scent wafted around her. Smoky, like burning wood, but there was something sensual too, a musky kind of smell that made her toes curl. Something stirred within her, something mysterious and foreign and _exciting_.

She felt slender fingers rest gently on her cheek. “That’s right. You’re an obedient girl, aren’t you?” he murmured. She could feel his cool breath against her ear, and she shivered, a sigh escaping her lips. “Your soul recognises me. Tell me, what is my name?”

“ _Satan_.” A demon’s name. But saying it didn’t feel wrong at all. As his name left her mouth, she felt something lurch within her and she gasped. Her body felt like it was on fire – her eyes flew open and she reached forward, curling her fingers in his shirt. He watched her, amusement dancing in his piercing green eyes, and he didn’t resist in the slightest when she pulled his face down, forcing her lips against his.

She had to tiptoe and crane her neck just to reach him, but in return, his kiss was brutally punishing – his hand seized the back of her head and she moaned when he leant into her, his fingers pulling at her hair, forcing her to keep her head tilted. He was rough, alternating between deep, bruising kisses and actual biting, but there was something so freeing, so _satisfying_ about how angry the kiss was. How it was nothing like the languid kisses she usually exchanged with her jerk of a boyfriend.

He brought her to life, and she could feel the rage that had been simmering all this time within her exploding, her fingers scrabbling underneath his shirt, her nails raking his back. He hissed and stopped pulling on her hair, and she was mildly disappointed for a moment, but the next thing she knew his fingers were wrapped around her throat and she was choking and struggling, her eyes rolling back in her head.

She couldn’t breathe, she was delirious, and maybe he might kill her, but she felt so _alive_. “Fuck you,” she managed to spit out, and she heard him laugh before he let go of her and she stepped back from him, wheezing. Her lips felt tender, and she could feel the imprint of his hand around her neck. But there was something within her that was drawn to him, something that told her to go back, to provoke him, to see how far he’d let her go next time. What would he look like when he was angry?

“You’re delightful.” His eyes gleamed, and she thought about how gorgeous they were, reflecting the fluorescent kitchen light. “Of all the sins you could have fallen into, you chose _mine_ …I’m sure you’ll be a very entertaining human.”

He carefully placed the dagger on the counter – her gaze flitted to it, then back to him, waiting for him to say something. “Treat this as a favour, human. In exchange for that little kiss. You can think about whether or not you’d like to act on your urges – if you turn away, you still have a chance to save your soul. If not…” He shrugged, leaving the words unspoken. She understood what he meant.

“Why are you warning me?” she demanded. Her voice sounded choked still, almost breathless, and her fingers fluttered up to her throat. “Don’t you want to tempt me to sin? You’re a demon.” And demons tortured the souls of sinners in Hell.

Satan laughed. “You amuse me. No other reason. But if you would rather keep your precious soul safe…” He reached for the dagger, and she immediately lunged for it, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. It was strangely warm, and the jewels seemed to pulsate with a mysterious energy. He met her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I’ll keep it. Just in case. I need time to think about it.” She couldn’t let go of the soft, tempting whispers he baited her with, the promise that she could kill the ones who betrayed her, that she could give them a fate crueller than death itself – he had provided her with an extremely powerful weapon and she’d be an idiot to give it up just like that. “How long do I have to consider?” she asked.

“Take as long as you’d like.” Satan shrugged. “I’m in no hurry. And neither are you, I suspect.” He looked her square in the eyes and smiled – she shivered. She could sense the danger that lurked behind that genial expression. “But it’d be best not to wait for too long. Wrath is impatient, you see. Once you let those embers of rage fade away, the blade you hold now will be rendered useless. Keep that in mind.”

“Thank you for the advice.” She paused, and the man waited, as though he knew she wasn’t done speaking to him. She chewed her lip, then finally decided to raise the question on her mind. “What if I want to see you again?”

“That’s simple. Just get angry.” He reached for her, tilting her chin with one finger, and she shivered at his touch. “I’m the Avatar of Wrath, and I hide deep within the shadows of hatred. I appear to those consumed by their rage, to those who believed one time too many in unfulfilled promises. Call my name and perhaps I’ll come to you.”

He leant down and brushed his lips against hers, a brief kiss far gentler than the one that came before. Her eyes widened, and he pulled back – he whispered her name in a voice like honey and sin and at the very next moment, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but the smell of flames and the memory of his fingers on her skin.

Oh, and also the dagger. She glanced at the bejewelled blade, wondering what to do with it. The jewels twinkled under the kitchen light, and she studied the polished metal – it was pitch-black, and it seemed to shimmer as she moved it around.

Maybe this was a dream. After a long day filled with bad news, she finally snapped and dreamt up this entire scenario featuring a weirdly hot demon with a voice that made her _want_ to sin, and eyes that seemed to draw out her very soul…yeah, she had to be dreaming. Weren’t demons supposed to be ugly creatures with wings and tails and pitchforks? He looked like a regular human. Albeit a really attractive one.

The dagger felt uncomfortably solid, though. Carefully grasping the hilt, she took it out of the kitchen, heading back to her bedroom. She placed the dagger in one of her drawers and kept it away. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe it’d be gone when she woke up. Her stomach growled then, and she winced. Right. She had forgotten about the leftovers.

She prepared to leave the room, but she walked past the dresser on her way out and she couldn’t help but pause. She glanced into the mirror, wanting to reassure herself that everything was fine, that nothing had changed. But then she blinked and stared at her reflection.

Her reflection looked back at her, and she slowly reached for it, tracing the purplish marks that blossomed across her neck. They were shaped just like fingerprints.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke up gasping, still able to feel phantom fingers wrapped around her throat.

Cold sweat trickled down her forehead, and she found that her hands were halfway reaching towards her neck – with a sigh, she turned onto her side and closed her eyes, burying her face in her pillow. She wasn’t used to sleeping alone. She didn’t think it would be so… _strange_.

It had been a long time since she last had to wind down by herself. It wasn’t something that she particularly enjoyed doing. Sure, being single and independent was great, but – she was used to having a warm body lying beside her. And without that, she felt…empty. Incomplete.

She got off the bed and jammed her feet into her bedroom slippers, deciding to go and get a drink from the kitchen. It didn’t feel like she’d be able to sleep again anytime soon.

Shuffling out of her room, she switched on all the lights in the apartment as she walked down the hallway, the sudden illumination making her feel a bit less lonely. But when she got to the entrance of the kitchen, she hesitated, suddenly thinking about the demon who had come to her earlier in the evening. Satan. Just the thought of his name made her shudder.

It wasn’t quite fear that she felt. She knew it wasn’t. Fear had an acrid stench to it. There was no way she could associate something so bitter with a man that beautiful.

 _Call my name and perhaps I’ll come to you_. She was tempted, honestly. If he was a demon and demons were willing to do anything in exchange for a human soul, then could she ask him to spend the night with her? She peered past the doorway, part of her hoping that he might be standing at the counter waiting for her again, but the kitchen was empty.

Grabbing a glass, she poured herself some water, stifling a yawn as she raised the drink to her lips. She still had work tomorrow and she ought to get more rest, but as the cool liquid slid down her throat it seemed to clear the fog of exhaustion from her mind and suddenly, she was wide awake. Placing the empty glass in the sink, she wondered about what to do next – the thought of returning to bed just to stare at the ceiling was rather unappealing.

Her neck throbbed, and she winced, her hand shooting up to touch the tender flesh – she couldn’t help but dream about him strangling her, dream about how his hands made her nerves sing, how the ruthlessness in his eyes stoked heat in her belly and forced sensation into something she long thought numb. Her toes curled at the memory of his smile.

Why was she so _obsessed_ with him? Her eyebrow twitched as she turned on the tap, a flood of water gushing out into the sink – she wasn’t the type to fall head-over-heels for a man she barely knew, least of all when the other party was a literal demon from Hell. But when he kissed her all her normal good sense seemed to merrily throw itself out of the window.

She wanted him with an intensity she’d never experienced before, and that scared her more than Satan himself did. This made no sense. She had to get her priorities fixed.

Annoyed at him, at herself and her overall situation, she washed the glass and placed it on the drying rack, her eyebrows knitted as she tried to think of various ways to pass the time. It was three in the morning. She had a good few hours until she had to get ready for work.

* * *

She felt self-conscious, walking down the street with the dagger in her coat. It wasn’t so bulky that she couldn’t carry it around, but knowing it was _there_ made everything feel…exciting.

Not that she had decided whether or not she wanted to use it yet. They were talking about her _soul_ here. And everything she’d heard about sinners and the afterlife made Hell sound like an awful place to be. She’d prefer not to be eaten. Or tortured for the rest of eternity.

The dagger was still warm. She could feel it radiating heat through her sweater – not that she was complaining, the extra warmth was welcome in today’s crap weather. The past few weeks the chill had been relatively mild, but today it was finally cold enough to snow, and God, how she hated the snow. She trudged through the street, desperate to get to her office building.

When she finally stepped into the lobby, shaking the snow off her coat and beanie, she made her way to the lift, pleased that she didn’t have to share it with someone. She purposely came in early today so that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone on the way to her cubicle.

At her desk, she surreptitiously removed the dagger from her coat and hid it in her cabinet. In truth, she didn’t know why she took it with her this morning. But when she was about to leave her room, some eerie impulse seized her and the next thing she knew, she had retrieved the dagger and tucked it inside her outer coat. She still hadn’t figured out what to do with it.

Once she locked her cabinet, she got up from her seat and headed to the washroom – her final moment of privacy before she had to check her emails. There was hardly anyone else around on her floor and no one stopped her to chat, which she was thankful for.

The washroom was empty, and she went to the sink, studying her reflection. Carefully, she unrolled her turtleneck sweater – the bruises were still there, dark and painful. She tilted her head. Underneath the stark lighting, the marks almost seemed to _move_.

“Pretty bruises, aren’t they?” A vaguely familiar voice suddenly rang off the walls – she whipped around and saw Satan leaning against the door, his hands tucked in his pockets. Amusement danced in his green eyes. “It makes me wonder what you’d look like when you bleed.”

She ought to be afraid of him, afraid of the dark threat that lingered behind his words, but all she could focus on was the curve of his lips and how soft they looked, entirely at odds with the violence that seemed to swirl around him. Satan was smiling, his posture calm and relaxed, but even so she’d never seen someone look so _dangerous_.

Why wasn’t she more afraid of him? Any rational human being would be. Maybe she had lost her sanity after catching her ex with that woman. “What are you doing in my office?”

“I noticed that you carried the dagger out with you today, so I was wondering if you intended to stab someone.” He shrugged, pushing himself away from the door as he spoke. “It’d be a shame to own something so powerful and not try to use it, right?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Thought you said you were giving me time to consider.”

“Am I not? After all, I’m not _ordering_ you to use it.” His laughter was almost tangible, tendrils winding around her wrists and ankles, coaxing her closer. Rich, inviting, his voice was sin personified. “I just repeated the thoughts that were already on your mind. You know that much yourself.”

He wasn’t wrong, but she’d rather he didn’t say it aloud like that. It made her sound like the kind of person she didn’t want to be. “That’s beside the point. How are you in my _office_? I didn’t summon you or anything. I’m not even angry right now.”

Satan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not? Really?” He took a step towards her and she froze, her breath trapped in her throat. Was this what it felt like to be cornered by a predator? He walked with the languid grace of someone who had all the time in the world, and every step he took made her more nervous. More excited. More…everything. “You’ve been seething with rage ever since last night, even if you shove your anger below more boring emotions like comfort and satisfaction and glee. Anger isn’t something that can be contained so easily.”

His smile was wry, almost taunting. She wanted to find a way to wipe it off his face. “Right. You seem to do an awfully good job of containing it though, for a demon that represents wrath.”

“You truly think so?” He chuckled, his smile widening into a brilliant grin. He was dazzling. She almost wanted to cover her eyes. “Well, it’d be rather embarrassing if I lacked control over my sin, don’t you agree?” He reached her, and she felt his fingertips brush against her cheek – his skin was cold, so cold. Colder than the winter air outside. Colder than death.

“What do you want from me?” she asked. She had no idea what demons liked to do in their free time but given that Satan was supposedly one of the seven princes of Hell, she doubted he would just pop in to say hello. He must have better things to do.

“You’re a mortal who caught my eye. Nothing more, nothing less.” Satan shrugged again. “It’s been a while since anyone has been bold enough to approach me. To keep _thinking_ about me. To even dream about me.” He leant closer, and her breath caught – she couldn’t move, helplessly transfixed by the tiny distance between their lips. “It’s foolish to be entranced by a demon, you know. After all, the only thing I’m interested in is your fragile mortal soul.”

His hand shifted from her face down to her neck, lingering over the fabric of her sweater. She could feel the iciness of his skin even through the thick material. “But I’ve always enjoyed this. Watching women get their revenge on their worthless lovers. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._ Melodramatic indeed, but no word rings false.” His fingers tugged at her turtleneck, exposing her blotchy, purpled skin to him. She felt strangely naked.

“Does that make me your newest plaything, then?” she whispered. She still wasn’t afraid. She should be, but she wasn’t. His dark eyes met hers, almost questioning, and then she dragged him closer and they were kissing again, the kind of kiss that devoured the air between them and set fire to her lungs. Her fingers pulled at his blond hair, greedy and uncaring – if he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gripped her hips and effortlessly lifted her so that she was propped on the sink. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist – at this height, she didn’t need to tiptoe to reach him, and something about his nearness made her dizzy.

His kiss was punishing. His tongue forced its way past her lips, and she whimpered, unable to help herself. His hands roamed over her body, untucking her sweater and sliding up her bare torso – she flinched at his touch. It was almost like being thrown into ice water. She wanted to push him away and tell him to go warm himself up first, but then his hands found the edge of her bra and suddenly all she could see was nothingness.

She could hear herself panting, her body trembling with anticipation – a wire drawn taut, almost ready to snap. She was only vaguely aware of him pushing her sweater up. Satan yanked her bra down, exposing one hardened nipple. He met her gaze and there was a satisfied gleam in his eyes that looked almost feline – that was the last thing she thought about before he took her breast into his mouth and began to suck.

She bit her lip, trying her hardest not to let out a sound – the last thing she needed was for a concerned colleague to barge into the washroom and catch her entwined with a demon. But Satan was so _good_. Where his fingers were frigid, his tongue was warm and wet and he knew how to use his mouth in a way that drew pleas and whimpers out of her, unconscious prayers for salvation falling from her lips. She tightened her grip on him, hooking her ankles together behind his back, and was pleased to feel his hardness grind against her aching core.

It would be so nice to just strip her pants off and let him take her right there. She _wanted_ this. She wanted him. It’d been so damn long since she last felt pleasure from sex. In her previous relationship, sex was comforting but lazy, something neither of them put particular effort into anymore. Sometimes she didn’t even remember what sex was like. But this was different. She felt almost _electric_. Like she was being reborn somehow, pushed into a world filled with pain and violence, the erotic whispers of pleasure underneath it all – Satan sank his teeth into her flesh, and she jolted into his mouth, her fingers twisting in his hair. It hurt. It hurt so _well_.

“Satan, _Satan_.” She realised that was her voice, her breathy whisper calling his name with the kind of reverence normally reserved for the altar. He growled in response, the vibrations of his voice shooting into her nipple throughout her entire body, and she shuddered, longing to whip off her damp panties. She wanted to take his cock into her mouth, graze the delicate skin with her teeth before allowing him to fuck her, the tip of him sinking into her throat. God, how _badly_ she wanted this. She was burning with desire and need, and he was looking at her with that triumphant glint in his eyes, his pretty lips still wrapped around her –

Then someone banged on the washroom door, and she stilled, holding her breath. “Oi! I don’t know who’s taking such a damn long time in the washroom but get out already!”

That voice sounded an awful lot like her boss. She let out a groan, and Satan slowly released her nipple with a quiet _pop_ , still looking amused. “This is all your fault,” she said, hopping off the sink and trying to arrange her clothes as best as she could – her lipstick was smeared and the feverish sheen of lust was still present in her eyes, but everything should be fine once she touched up her makeup and splashed some cold water on her cheeks.

“My fault? You seemed very into it,” Satan answered, and his coy smile made her want to slap him. “Maybe if you do something to get my approval, I’ll show you a better time tonight.”

She froze, wondering if she should clarify what he meant, but when she turned around Satan was gone and she was left alone in the washroom, heat pulsing through her veins.

* * *

Do something to get Satan’s approval. She twirled her pen between her fingers, considering her options – she had a few ideas, none of which would be good for her soul.

Was this what it felt like to be tempted by the devil? Satan made a _very_ compelling argument. Some tiny, rational part of her mind told her she was stupid for even considering his proposal – to become a sinner just so he would spend the night with her? She wasn’t like that.

She wasn’t supposed to be impulsive or hot-headed. All her life she’d forced herself to study hard, to work hard, to do everything with the utmost effort she could muster because this was the only way she could succeed. But she was so _tired_. So sick of putting up this façade all the time. Sometimes she could feel tiny cracks forming in her carefully maintained exterior.

He found those cracks, his voice slithering into the fault lines which bypassed all logic, which gave him a direct path straight to her heart. He coaxed her, persuading her to close her eyes and just give in to the resentment that bubbled away in her chest, festering and malignant.

There was something undeniably powerful and mysterious about him, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him, couldn’t bring herself to run away even when he approached her, filled with dangerous intent. She suppressed all instinct to flee, desperate to hear his voice. If Satan was one of the rulers of Hell, then surely Hell couldn’t be such a bad place. Could it?

She pressed her fingers against her temple. Ever since that episode in the washroom, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being split apart – one half of her reminded her that Satan was a _demon_ ; that all he wanted was to devour her soul and tempt her to sin. But the other half of her was drunk off him. She wanted his hands wrapped around her neck and his lips on hers, rough and unforgiving. And struggling between these two halves was exhausting.

It would be nice if she could just stop _thinking_ , but probably the only way she could do that was if she went home now and drank until she fell asleep. Did she even still have wine?

Just then, two thick folders were dropped onto her desk and she jumped – when she looked up, she saw her colleague staring at her, chewing on some gum. It was the same guy they all suspected of sleeping his way to a promotion, and immediately she frowned, glancing at the folders he’d so unceremoniously deposited. “What’s all this?”

“Boss wants to start migrating all our data to the new system. We still have data from our old archives, so we need someone to transfer all this over.” He blew a bubble and popped it.

“Isn’t that _your_ job?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. At least that was what she knew based on his job title. She’d never actually seen him doing anything related to data architecture.

“I work with _bigger_ things. This is intern-level work.” He grinned at her – he probably thought he looked cute. She just thought he looked smarmy. “Don’t you have an intern? Just throw it to them. It’ll be a nice change from making coffee all the time.”

She bristled. “My intern left _last month_ , just in case you didn’t notice. And don’t you have staff with capacity? You have an entire team working under you. You don’t need my help.”

Normally she wouldn’t be this confrontational, but something compelled her to stand up for herself today. She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. It was lunchtime, yet she was still at her desk, trying to rush out a report her boss wanted before the end of the day. She did not need an entitled prick trying to flaunt his newfound authority in front of her.

“You’re the fastest at data entry, though! That’s why everyone goes to you, isn’t it?” said prick replied, though she thought his smile dimmed at her response. She bet he had been expecting her to just suck it up and say yes, as always. “C’mon, I need your help. This has to be finished by next week and I’m already struggling with that other portfolio. Please?”

She rose from her chair, picking up the folders and pushing them back into his arms. “Not in the mood to help you today. I’m swamped. Try asking your temp staff – I saw one of them flirting with the receptionist in the pantry.” There was nothing more satisfying than watching his jaw drop, and she hid a smile by ducking her head and turning her attention back to her computer.

He tried to change her mind a few more times, but she was stubborn, and eventually, he left. Though he made a few veiled threats about reporting her to the higher-ups, she didn’t care much – at most she’d look for another job somewhere. Hell, she’d even take up babysitting again if that meant she could escape from corporate slavery.

Her gaze drifted to her cabinet and abruptly, she remembered the dagger she had locked away earlier in the day. She was giddy with triumph and maybe that made her more reckless than usual, but all of a sudden she found herself thinking about using the weapon on all the men who had let her down before, one way or another – starting with her stupid ex, then her asshole colleague, then the boy who had bullied her back in grade school, then the jerk who simply couldn’t stop playing his bass guitar in the middle of the night…

So many possibilities. So many ways to make herself happy. Why did she have to crawl up the corporate ladder just to obtain some illusion of contentment? Things would be much easier if she could just…get rid of the obstacles in her life. And she had the perfect means to do so right there, in her cabinet. She chewed on her lip. It was a frighteningly attractive possibility.

What did it mean to give up her soul? What would happen to her? What punishment should she expect? Perhaps Satan could tell her. She was aware he had no incentive to reveal all this to her, but…if she asked nicely, maybe he would let something slip. Reaching for the cabinet, she let her fingers linger on the lock, her skin brushing over cold metal.

Tonight. Tonight, she’d consider. She wasn’t going to make an impulsive decision, not even if every nerve in her body sang at the thought of getting her way.


	3. Chapter 3

It was dark outside. She glanced at the time and exhaled, reaching up to knead her shoulder. Just a few more minutes and she should be able to head home.

God, when did she become this stiff? She should look for a good massage parlour this week. A reward for finally getting rid of that leech, maybe. Oh, and she ought to put up an ad for a new flatmate too. The rent was due soon, and some extra cash would come in handy.

Taking one last look at the report, she was satisfied there was nothing more she could add so she saved the file, finally able to switch off her laptop. It was already past eight, and she was one of the few people still in the office. She rose from her chair, her bones aching, and looked down the hallway. The lights were dim, and it threw the whole passage into shadow.

It wasn’t the first time she had stayed this late, but she never liked how the office looked after-hours. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, not exactly, but the silhouettes of the desks and printers and empty chairs just seemed so much more… _eerie_ when there was no one around.

Deciding to pack her things, she paused when she opened the cabinet and saw the dagger gleaming back at her, the jewels twinkling under the office lights. Just looking at it made her chest tighten. She still didn’t know what to do with the weapon, and simply staring at it wouldn’t help her make up her mind. She had to talk to Satan.

 _Talk to Satan_. She snorted. As though it would be that easy to even contact him. She still had no idea why he showed up in the washroom this morning, but he seemed like the type to do things as and when he wanted, and it wasn’t like she knew how to summon him either.

Well, he _did_ tell her to get angry if she wanted to see him. But rage was a complex emotion – it wasn’t like hunger or boredom or exhaustion. She couldn’t get mad without a trigger, and she didn’t intend to search for one either. Upsetting herself would be nothing but counterproductive.

She grabbed the dagger, hiding it within her coat, and picked up her bag. It was time to go.

* * *

The trip home was fairly uneventful, at least until she got off the bus.

She was pretty sure there was someone following her, and she quickened her pace, hoping that she was just being paranoid. The back of her neck prickled, and she tightened her grip on her bag. She knew some basic self-defence, so if it came down to that…

Her apartment wasn’t too far away. Once she went into the building, she should be safe. The streetlights were still on, but the illumination they provided was of scarce comfort when she could sense her stalker following her still, likely waiting for the best opportunity to strike.

What did they want? If it was money, she didn’t have much. But if it was something else they wanted…a shiver ran down her back, and she swallowed, her throat dry. All of a sudden, the darkness seemed so much more foreboding. Her nails were stabbing her palm and it _stung_ , but the pain grounded her; without it, she might end up having a panic attack.

She thought she could hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and she resisted the urge to peek over her shoulder, trying to convince herself that she was imagining things. She was fine. She _would be_ fine. There was nothing to worry about.

Why did this week have to be so crappy? Work was terrible, her good-for-nothing ex cheated on her, and now _this_. Maybe it was time for her to go back to church or something.

As she hurried down the street, trying not to look behind her – she was curious, but she didn’t want to frighten herself – she walked past an alley. Without warning, a hand snaked forth and grabbed her, dragging her into the darkness. An instinctive scream rose within her throat, but before she could make a sound, she felt another hand cover her mouth, muffling her.

“Shh.” She inhaled – it was a familiar voice, smooth and seductive, a lover’s caress against her skin. “He’s searching for you now, and if you scream you’ll just give yourself away.”

She nodded, and he released her, his fingers lingering on her cheek – she glanced back and saw Satan smiling at her, green eyes almost glowing in the darkness. “Why did you save me?” she whispered, puzzled by his sudden magnanimity.

“I thought it might be interesting to see how you’d react.” His smile widened. “You sensed it, didn’t you? That someone was following you. But there’s no need to be afraid.” He gestured towards her coat, and her hand instinctively reached up, resting over her hidden dagger.

“You want me to use this on him?” she asked, her voice trembling. He shrugged, looking her square in the eyes, his gaze unflinching.

“I don’t intend to help you, you know. If you know another way back to your apartment from here, then I’m all ears.” She heard a hint of challenge in his voice, but she lifted her chin and stared back at him, unwilling to back down. If he thought she was going to _beg_ him to save her, then he didn’t know her in the slightest. She wasn’t one to admit defeat so easily.

Maybe there was another way back to her apartment from here. Deciding to follow the passageway, she went deeper into the darkness, Satan trailing casually behind her. It was a winding path, and the further she walked the less she could see – part of her mind began to wonder if this place even existed before today. She didn’t remember seeing this alley before.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Satan’s voice floated out from behind her, and he sounded amused. She gritted her teeth, tempted to retort, but she held her tongue – it was probably better to focus on finding her way out. The alley was just barely illuminated by the faint light of the moon, and she walked slowly, carefully, hoping she wouldn’t trip.

Perhaps going out of the alley to confront her stalker would have been a better idea.

Doubt strangled her heart, her breaths coming out quick, nervous. Was this a trap? Did Satan trick her into doing what he wanted? Maybe something _worse_ than a random mugger waited for her at the end of this path. Maybe he wanted to force her hand, make her use the dagger so that her soul was his for the taking. She wouldn’t put it past him to try such a thing.

“You think too loud,” Satan said, his tone conversational. She jumped, startled out of her thoughts, and whipped around to glare at him, her heart thudding in her chest.

She could barely make out his face, his features shrouded in shadow – though his green eyes continued to gleam, bright and feline. “Can you read my mind or something?”

“I can’t. I’m a demon, not a fortune-teller.” She couldn’t be sure if he was mocking her or not – his tone remained light, almost gentle. “But I can sense fear, and it radiates off you in waves. You’re scared, aren’t you?” His voice was a murmur. “Scared of what awaits you in the dark.”

“I don’t like what I can’t see,” she answered. He laughed, and she flinched when something brushed against her cheek. Then she realised it was his hand, cupping her face, his thumb stroking slow circles over her skin, and she exhaled, his proximity calming her somewhat.

Funny, how she’d run from a stranger but fall gladly into the arms of one of the seven princes of Hell. “Such a straightforward response. I’d find it charming if you weren’t so vulnerable.”

She frowned. “Vulnerable?”

“Mm. Like a lamb to the slaughter.” His hand on her cheek dropped to her shoulder, and she let out a cry when his nails dug into her skin, on the verge of drawing blood. “People believe that we demons only devour souls. That we never eat anything else. But that’s not quite true.” His breath fluttered against her jaw. “Once in a while, we do enjoy the taste of human flesh.”

Her heart seemed to stop in her chest. She could almost see the smile on his face. Before he could say anything else, she swung her bag and felt it knock against him – his grip on her loosened and she took off down the passage, determined to get away. Her shoulder still felt sore, her flesh throbbing as she fled, but she refused to be distracted by the pain.

She’d tend to her wounds later when she got out of here. _If_ she managed to get out.

Her hands were outstretched, reaching before her so that she wouldn’t crash into anything while escaping. There were no footsteps behind her, and she wondered if he’d really let her go just like that or if he had something else up his sleeve. Did he seriously intend to eat her?

Something rough hit her palm. The brick wall. She flailed about, trying to figure out where to turn next, and felt a sudden breeze picking up towards her left. Relieved, she spun and went down the passage, hoping she’d find the exit soon.

Time passed. She wasn’t sure how long, and she didn’t want to pause and look at her phone either, but her pace had slowed now that she was confident Satan wasn’t following her. It was almost… _comfortable_ , walking through this place. Here, her mind was free to wander, and she didn’t have to think about things like her career or her finances or her broken relationship.

Eventually, she saw a pinprick of light at the end of the path and her spirits lifted, the promise of freedom beckoning to her. She hurried towards the light and finally burst out of the alley, into the open night air – then she blinked when she realised she was back where she started.

She looked up and down the street. Yes, this was _exactly_ where Satan had pulled her in at the beginning, though right now there was no one else around. Her mysterious stalker must have given up on looking for her. Reaching for her phone, she glanced at the screen and her eyes widened when she noticed that the time had barely changed since she got off the bus.

How could this be? She felt like she had been stumbling around in that alley for _ages_. Yet her phone’s clock beamed up at her, showing that barely even five minutes had passed since she first noticed someone following her down the street.

Confused, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and glanced over her shoulder. The wall faced her, weathered and worn. The alley she had just left was nowhere to be found.

* * *

She lay in bed, the dagger under her pillow, just waiting. She wasn’t sure why, but she had a distinct feeling that Satan might visit her room tonight, and she wanted to be prepared.

Something creaked outside, but she couldn’t tell if it came from the street or the hallway. Her hand, tucked beneath the pillow, tightened around the dagger’s hilt. The air felt thick, almost viscous – her heart was pounding in her chest, her body trembling with anticipation.

The worst part was how she couldn’t tell if she was nervous or excited. Frightened or eager. It shouldn’t be a _question_ – she ought to be terrified. Satan had outright said that he wanted to eat her. Yet here she was, so much tension in her body that she was practically vibrating.

Her gaze flicked towards her clock. The luminous numbers glowed back at her. Almost three. Some little corner of her mind remembered that three in the morning was witching hour; the time when witches, demons and ghosts were supposed to be at their most powerful.

Another creak. She stiffened, her head turning – that was a lot closer than the first time she heard it. The sound was followed by the slow drag of a bedroom door yawning open, the whisper of footsteps against the carpet. She stared in the direction of the entrance, trying her best to remain still.

“Did you miss me?” His voice came from the other side of her bed, and she whipped around, her heart almost leaping out of her chest. There he was, grinning at her, and her first thought was that if she was killed tonight, no one would know – no one cared enough to look for her, now that she was alone. “It was fun watching you run around in that maze.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Enjoyed teasing the human, didn’t you?”

“Kind of. It’s been a while since I last met someone as fearless as you.” He paused. “Though I can’t be sure if you’re truly brave or if you’re just an idiot. It’s hard to differentiate sometimes.”

“You know, for the Avatar of Wrath, you’re pretty cocky. You sure you’re not Pride?”

For a moment, she thought his eyes flashed red. “Don’t compare me to Lucifer.” His words were calm and measured, but she felt the overpowering _rage_ that suddenly swept through the room, hiding behind that empty smile, and she shuddered, her chest tightening.

But just as quickly, the moment passed and he was back to his usual self once more, polite and genteel. “You know, I wasn’t joking when I talked about wanting to eat you.”

“Why don’t you, then?” she challenged, forcing herself to smile at him, forcing herself to stay in bed even if every instinct screamed at her to run. “Why didn’t you do that from the start?”

He seemed to consider. “Well, I always thought that human flesh tastes so much sweeter when it’s tinged with fear.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Unlike my brother, Beelzebub, I have a little more respect for the food I consume.”

“You could show me even more respect by not eating me,” she countered.

Satan leant in, reaching for her face. She allowed him to touch her, his slender fingers cool against her skin. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispered. “You could always change my mind. I’m not so ravenous that I can’t appreciate a good discussion.”

“I wouldn’t taste good at all. I eat so much junk. Potato chips and ice cream and everything.” Why were they talking so _normally_? As though he hadn’t just threatened to eat her. “And I wouldn’t have a good meat-to-bone ratio. You probably want someone a little fleshier.”

Satan’s laugh was like warm, sweet honey. “You put up a fair argument. But bones are pretty good for stew, you know. And I find myself craving some delicious meat stew tonight.”

It was unfair how seductive his voice was. God, what she wouldn’t give to just _sink_ into him – but she reminded herself that if she didn’t play her cards right, she could quite literally end up a part of him. “You could consider going vegan. It’s good for your health.”

“Us demons don’t need to think so much about our health,” he answered, his fingers stilling on her chin. “There’s not much that can kill us. You, on the other hand…”

She sensed the shift in mood, saw his face come closer and instinctively, she swung the blade hidden beneath her pillow, encountering resistance as it bit into flesh and bone. Black blood, hot and sticky, splattered against her face, running in rivulets down his arm. She could hear a faint _hiss_ as the blood dripped onto the carpet, and slowly she turned back to face him.

Satan looked surprised. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, but he stared down at the wound with something akin to wonder in his eyes. She tugged on the dagger, trying to work it free, but the blade was stuck firmly in his arm, and it refused to budge. “How interesting,” he said, and he didn’t sound anything like how she’d expect a grievously injured man to sound. “So this dagger can hurt me. I didn’t know that. Well, we’re always learning, aren’t we?”

“How are you not in _pain_?” she asked, wriggling the dagger. The blade scraped against what seemed to be bone and she winced, but Satan still looked entirely unbothered.

“As if I’d be hurt by something of my creation,” he said, sounding more entertained than she thought he would be. “You have some spunk, don’t you? Maybe it was right to pick _you_ to come to, out of all the mortals constantly calling my name. You’re rather lively.”

Lively was _not_ the word she’d use to describe someone who just tried to kill her. “You’re sick in the head, Satan.” She pulled again, and the blade finally came free, more blood spurting out of the gash. It made her feel a little ill. “You’re _bleeding_. Look at you.”

“Why are you worried about someone who wants to eat you?” he asked. As he spoke, he passed a hand over the wound, and she saw faint green light emanating from his fingertips – before her very eyes, the wound knitted itself up, leaving behind no trace of a scar. She stared, taken aback by what she just saw. Proof of magic? Or his demonic powers, perhaps?

“I…I don’t know,” she admitted. “But the more I think about it, the more I feel like you were just – that you weren’t serious.” She met his gaze, and he cocked his head, studying her. “If you wanted to eat me, you could have done so already. There must be something else.”

“Clever girl.” He chuckled, sitting on the bed beside her. She scrambled back to give him space, unable to look away from the dark splatters on his shirt. “It was a test, and nothing more. I said I’d give you what you wanted if you impressed me, remember?”

Her mind went back to the conversation they had in the morning, at the office washroom. “Wait. What?” She didn’t know what else to say. Frightening her, threatening her, getting injured by her – so all this was nothing but a _test_?

She didn’t know whether she ought to get angry or not. “Why do you sound so surprised?” Satan asked, his smile dimming. “There’s no fun without a little fear, don’t you think? And I wasn’t about to _force_ you to use the dagger. That’d defeat the purpose of temptation.”

“I still used it though. On you, I mean.” She swallowed, looking down at the sharp blade in her hand. It felt cooler now, no longer as warm to the touch as it was before. The jewels decorating the hilt seemed less beautiful as well. Almost cheap, like costume jewellery.

“Doesn’t count.” He shrugged. “No weapon will hurt its maker. At least not in the way it was intended to.” He reached for the dagger and she let go, her chest feeling almost hollow as it was taken from her. “Why, do you miss it already? It’s quite pretty. Even if I do say so myself.”

“Why did you come to me?” She shook her head, running a hand through her bangs. They fell in front of her eyes, hiding her line of sight so that she didn’t have to look at him. “Now that I’ve met you, now that I’ve used that weapon – I don’t know how to feel.”

“Why?” She felt his fingers slide underneath her chin, tugging her face up. His touch was strangely gentle, almost loving. “I was bored, I suppose. And I must say that this is the first time I’ve seen someone so capable of restraining their anger.” His other hand reached up, brushing her hair away from her forehead. His face was impassive. “I just wanted to see how far I could push you. There’s no other reason, I’m afraid.”

How far he could push her? Like she was some sort of toy. She felt a flicker of rage bloom in her belly, malicious heat that spread down all the way to her toes. “I’m not a game to be played, Satan,” she breathed before she reached out and curled her fingers in his shirt, yanking him forward. Their lips met, and she swore that she found home in his arms.

He countered her, fierce and searching, two souls playing a twisted game of dominance, and when he bit her bottom lip she gasped, hot blood welling up to meet him. He feasted on the salt of her pain, and her fingers ripped at his buttons, seeking out _more_ – more than what he was offering, more than what was good for her. Satan withdrew, an unspoken question in his eyes, and she nodded, impatiently scrabbling beneath his shirt, nails raking down his back.

“You’re going to regret this,” he murmured, though it was hard to believe him when he was holding her this way, his teeth at her throat, at her pulse, leaving purple-blue marks that would be impossible to hide once the sun rose.

“Convince me,” she rasped, and he laughed, the vibrations sending tingles across her skin.

“If that’s what you want, human. If that’s what you want.” And part of her wondered what she had gotten herself into – the rest of her just wanted him, and she wanted him _now_.

Maybe she would regret this when she woke up. _If_ she woke up. But for now, she couldn’t care less.


	4. Chapter 4

His skin was uncomfortably cold.

If she didn’t know better, she would have thought him a dead man – but then again, did demons even count as living beings? They were immortal, weren’t they?

Before she could pursue this line of thought, Satan pulled down her collar and suddenly she felt _warmth_ – his tongue ran over the column of her neck and without meaning to, she shivered. She could feel the curve of his smile against her skin.

She didn’t know what to expect. It’d been a while since she last slept with someone, let alone a demon. “You taste delicious,” Satan murmured, pressing a kiss against the underside of her jaw, and she was reminded of his comment about wanting to eat her – she wondered now if that was simply part of his test or if he _had_ meant that.

“I’m not sure if I want to be eaten halfway through sex. It’s not my fetish,” she said, and he chuckled, the soft, velvet sound of his laughter making her toes curl.

“You’re quite bold to voice your desires so blatantly.” He withdrew from her, though one of his hands wrapped around her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin. “Aren’t you scared? It’s the least I would expect from someone so breakable.”

She glowered. “Calling me weak is making this entire experience very unsexy.”

“Point taken. I’ll just stay silent for now, shall I?” She was about to raise an eyebrow at him, surprised by his noble sacrifice – he seemed like the type who couldn’t resist getting the final word in everything – but then abruptly she felt his teeth sinking into her shoulder and she yelped, her entire body jerking against him.

If that was how he intended to shut himself up, then she wasn’t opposed to it. What she _was_ upset about was Satan ripping her shirt off as though it was made of paper – this was her favourite top to sleep in, after all – but it was hard to focus on that when his mouth was hot and searching and he began to kiss down from her shoulder to her chest. He bit and he sucked, and she was sure it’d leave a line of fresh bruises across her skin when she woke up tomorrow, but for now, she couldn’t care less.

Truthfully speaking, she’d been expecting him to be more violent, so she liked that he was taking his time, warming her up this way. She didn’t doubt for a second that he had his selfish reasons for doing so – maybe he wanted her pliant and needy before he _really_ began to enjoy himself – but it was…nice, nevertheless.

She wondered what it’d be like to kiss him again. A kiss that wasn’t demanding, that wasn’t brutal but was instead soft and slow and almost tender.

“This isn’t going the way I thought it would,” she finally said, her eyelids lowering as Satan’s lips brushed against her navel, his mouth having conspicuously avoided her chest. He glanced up at her comment, and she mourned the loss of his lips against her skin. “I just thought, you know, what with you being the Avatar of Wrath…”

“You thought I would be angrier?” he asked, sounding amused. She nodded, averting her gaze – it was hard to look into those bright green eyes, almost twinkling in the dim light of her room. “Do you want me to be?”

“No. This is fine.” She lifted her hands, her fingers curling into him, and he grinned, a flash of pearly white – his canine was sharp, almost a fang. “I think I’ve mentioned this before, but you’re nothing like what I imagined wrath to be.”

“Hm.” Satan hummed against her bare stomach, and she gasped, clutching onto his shoulders. “Tell me what you thought demons were like, then.”

“I don’t think very much about them.” She hissed as his mouth trailed downward, his teeth tugging on the waistband of her sleeping shorts. “I don’t have the time.”

“A good response.” His hands replaced his mouth and he slid her shorts and panties off in one fluid motion. The cold air between her thighs made her flinch. “But if you _had_ to describe a demon to someone, what would you say?”

Her mind was swirling with half-formed answers. Satan’s hands were colder than her room, but his breath was warm and the feeling of his tongue running over her skin, juxtaposed with his icy fingers, was making it difficult to focus. “Demons are…gatekeepers. They punish sinners for the crimes they committed in the world of the living.”

Satan laughed. “Well, that’s one way to put it.” His hands dipped between her thighs, nudging them apart, and she didn’t resist, her breath catching as he stared appraisingly at her. “You might not have killed anyone with my dagger. But lying with one of the seven princes of Hell won’t endear you to Heaven either, you know.”

“I know.” She slid her hands up from his shoulders, winding them through his blond hair. “But I never thought about going to Heaven, anyway. It takes too much effort.”

“So, you would rather suffer for all eternity than strive for salvation?” he asked, his breath fluttering against her skin. She felt a soft moan catch in the back of her throat. “You know, if I weren’t a demon, I might have called you foolish.”

“Maybe I am,” she agreed. “I mean, not pushing you away now only supports that theory.”

“Well, I’m not the kind to look a gift horse in the mouth.” Satan’s tongue flicked out and she stiffened, her fingers tightening in his hair. A rush of heat flooded her at the _sensation_ of him, warm and wet and soft, and she had to remind herself to breathe as he played with her, his hands placed on her knees, keeping them apart.

She was once again reminded of how long it’d been since she last felt this way. How her good-for-nothing ex had taken intimacy for granted; how sex felt like a chore rather than something meant to bring pleasure. She threw her head back and moaned as she arched off the bed, his tongue making her belly clench and her toes curl – Satan’s grip was firm, and he pulled her closer, his tongue relentless.

It made her wonder exactly how many people he’d slept with. Wonder if demons liked to fuck around with humans, or if she happened to be an exception. But his fingers dropped from her knee to slip inside her, his tongue circling her clit, and all those thoughts fled her mind, the only thing left being the desire in her blood, and how badly she wanted to feel _something_ , no matter what it was.

Why did life have to be so difficult? She gasped, choking on his name as he curled his fingers exquisitely, stroking a spot that made little lights flash behind her eyelids. She could feel herself clenching around him, the pleasure – both familiar and yet not – a constant staccato pulsing through her body. Her fingers were fisting the bedsheet but still, he didn’t let go. “ _Satan,_ ” she cried, begging for mercy, but he didn’t release her until she was thrashing against him, some rational, almost-forgotten part of her mind in awe at how easily he pushed her to such extremes.

It had been so long. Too long.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was breathless, almost a gasp, and she watched as he lifted his head, one perfect eyebrow raised. She could see the faint glimmer of her arousal on his chin, and usually, she might have felt embarrassed, but now there was something almost intoxicating about seeing him covered in her wetness – it was a reminder, no matter how small, that she was still desirable. Even after, and perhaps despite everything that had happened to her.

Her cheating ex. Her shitty workplace. Her wavering belief that as long as she worked hard and proved her competence, she would be rewarded. None of that mattered when she was being touched by a demon, by a creature she had been taught all her life to fear, to despise – how could she turn away from someone so beautiful?

Satan was, after all, the first person to open her eyes. To make her realise that it was only the strong who mattered, in the end. Hard work and diligence were nothing more than simple-minded ideals meant to trick the weak into believing they could make a difference in the world. What could fragile humans do even if demons wanted to take them away, wanted to strip the flesh off their bones?

“I have needs too, you know.” He made a sound that bordered on amusement. “And you’re not bad-looking. I like the way you played along with my little experiment.”

“You mean…handing me a knife and telling me to stab someone?” Her mind was still dazed from the fierce orgasm he had forced out of her, but she was quickly swimming back to coherence, and his words made her pause. “I’m an experiment?”

“Mm.” He pressed his lips to her knee, his green eyes never leaving hers. “I enjoy meeting humans who behave like me. Those who leave their anger to simmer in the depths of their hearts, kept under lock and key.” His hand slid down to her inner thigh, his thumb stroking slow circles over her skin.

He wasn’t freezing anymore. Instead, his skin was pleasantly cool, and she wondered if she was simply getting used to his temperature or if there was another reason for this sudden change. “Did you have your eye on me all this time or something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I have better things to do.” His teeth sank into her and she let out a moan, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on her pillow. “Let me put it this way. How many humans do you think call for me, unconsciously or not, every day?”

“Thousands?” she guessed, her thigh jerking away from him when his grip loosened. “I don’t know. People call for you when they invoke your sin, right?”

“Mm-hm.” Satan hummed, sounding pleased. “Now, contrary to popular belief, the seven deadly sins _can_ be rather forgiving. We aren’t going to take you to Hell simply because you got upset one time at your colleague for dumping their work on you.”

“Are you sure you haven’t been stalking me?” She sat up, pulling her legs in – she could feel the wetness slick between her thighs, and she wrapped her arms around herself with a little shiver. The ghost of his touch lingered in her mind; the way his fingers had coaxed moans and whimpers out of her, the way he had made her cry his name.

“Your situation applies to millions around the world. Don’t start thinking that you’re anything special.” He said this mildly, but she still felt a little twinge in her chest.

“Carry on, then.” She leant her cheek on top of her knee, and he regarded her silently for a second before he cleared his throat.

“We usually hear humans who feel our sin most strongly. I’ve heard your voice a few times before, but it was always muffled. Like sound filtering through water.” His lips curved up. “Until last night, that is. Last night, I could hear you loud and clear.”

“Last night was when I decided I could no longer forgive him,” she murmured. “You know, back in high school, I thought I would be able to live through anything so long as he stayed by my side. That was childish of me, right? To believe in things like that.”

“You humans all seem childish to me.” He shrugged. “But that’s only to be expected. It’s impossible to compare the impermanence of mortality to eternity’s blank canvas.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I was hoping to hear something more reassuring.”

“Do you think I’m an angel?” He reached forward, touching her cheek. Her exhale was shaky. “It’s not my job to comfort. It’s my job to punish. Like what you said earlier.”

“You’re no angel, but you certainly look like one.” She paused. “It’s not fair. If Hell is a place meant for criminals, then why are its executioners so pretty?”

He laughed. “Just because I’m a demon means I have to be ugly?”

“It makes sense,” she mumbled. “I mean, if you wanted to punish someone, then why would you surround them with beautiful things?"

“Believe me, when you’re trapped in Hell you don’t have the time or energy to focus on the appearance of your captors.” Satan tilted her face up, forcing her to look at him. “I can’t quite make up my mind about what to do with you.”

“I thought you wanted to eat me.” Her tongue flicked out to moisten her bottom lip, and she saw his gaze flit down to her mouth. “Did you change your mind?”

“You’re no longer scared. It won't taste as good.” His hand slid down to her neck, his fingers flexing. She could feel them digging into the soft flesh of her throat. “But I can’t just let you go either. It’d be like tearing apart a puzzle right before you put the last piece in.” His voice washed over her, soothing, wondering, and her eyelids fluttered.

“You know,” she mused, allowing him to push her down so that her head touched her pillow, “I think wrath gets too much flak. It’s much more than just _bam_ , now I’m angry.”

“Oh? Pray tell.” His thumb was pressing into her pulse, and her throat convulsed as she swallowed. It wasn’t enough to choke but breathing and talking were starting to get a little difficult.

“I think that wrath illuminates the truth,” she said. He paused, studying her, and she felt his grip on her loosen just the tiniest bit. “When you get angry, you think about all the things you might have been wilfully ignoring before. Like I was. I’ve been keeping my head down, clinging to principles that don’t do anything other than make me feel better about myself, but when I got mad…it was a moment of realisation.”

“You make my sin sound much nobler than it actually is.” He let go of her neck, and her chest swelled as she reflexively inhaled, taking in deep, greedy gulps of air. “Wrath is inherently selfish. It’s a loss of reason and rationale. It’s mindless destruction.”

“Yet when harnessed properly, doesn’t it become fuel to drive ambition?” she asked. “People have long made use of their rage to push themselves to greater heights.”

Satan stated at her for a moment, then cocked his head, withdrawing to slide his hands between her thighs again, pushing them open. She waited with bated breath as he unbuttoned his shirt and undid his pants, all with casual, calculated efficiency, and when he returned to her, he was completely bare. She could feel him pressing against her core, hot and throbbing, and she couldn’t help the whine that rose out of her throat.

“Tell me, human. What is your wish?” he asked, his voice low and sensuous in her ear. His words curled into her, making her shudder, and it felt like her entire being hinged on the sound of him, on the question that fell like sweet honey from his lips.

“I want to stop thinking,” she answered. “I’m tired of this life. I’m tired of feeling like I never once did anything for my own sake. I want you to make it all disappear.”

“Are you sure?” he breathed, and she let out a quiet sigh. He felt warm now. Warmer than she’d ever imagined he could be. “My offer with the dagger still stands. You are more than capable of taking matters into your own hands. If you could get rid of the obstacles standing in your way, then does it matter what fate has in store for you?”

“I don’t want to go down that path.” She turned her head, staring into his eyes. In the darkness, they reminded her of a snake. “I am not a murderer.”

“The strong devour the weak.” His lips met hers, and she gasped into him, her hands reaching up to pull at his hair, revelling in the feel of his skin against hers. His weight was comforting. Familiar, almost. He tasted like sin. “I don’t give second chances.”

“I understand.” She ground her hips against him, needy, and for the first time since they met, she heard him release a shaky breath, his fingers digging into the pillow on either side of her head.

“If this is what you want. Don’t come crying to me later.”

“I won’t,” she answered, and he looked at her for a second longer before he nodded – she cried out, her eyes widening as he pushed into her, stretching her in a way that felt impossibly delicious. She was still wet despite the lull in activity, and there was no resistance as he bottomed out inside her. She pressed herself closer, her nipples against his chest, and little jolts of pleasure shot through her every time he moved.

“People make such foolish decisions sometimes,” Satan mused, though he had set up a rhythm that made it difficult to think – she was panting and writhing, her gaze fixed on this beautiful, beautiful man who watched her with something almost like pity in his eyes. “It’s rather bizarre. But who am I to judge the actions of humans?”

He grinned, but she was unable to appreciate his irony at this point in time. “Satan. Could you stop talking and just – just _fuck_ me,” she gasped, and he leant down, his forehead almost touching hers.

“You’re a greedy human.” But thankfully, he gave her what she wanted, and she felt her whole mind go blank with bliss as Satan took her, forceful and unforgiving, every movement intended to knock the air out of her lungs.

“Please. _Please_.” She yearned for him, her hands reaching out, and his fingers twined through hers, pressing her back into the mattress. “ _More_.” Her body was hot. Everything was on fire. The tension in her belly felt ready to snap.

“Are you willing to pay the price?” he asked, still sounding like he was taking a stroll rather than engaging in coitus; she nodded, desperate, and he kissed the underside of her jaw, his mouth searching – his teeth pressed into the hollow of her throat.

“Take…take me,” she whispered, bucking her hips against him. “Please.” All she could think about was _him_ ; his touch, his taste, the way his fingers left bruises on her skin, his beautiful face illuminated by the moonlight, the way she would surely regret all this tomorrow.

He glanced up at her. His green eyes burned. “As you wish.”

* * *

Beelzebub wandered into the kitchen to find Satan on kitchen duty, holding a ladle in one hand as he read a book with the other. “What are you making today?”

Normally, he’d have no issue identifying the scent, and it certainly wasn’t _unfamiliar_. But it had been a while since he last smelled this, and he was having some trouble trying to place it. Satan glanced up from his book. “Oh, Beel.” He scooped up some of the pot’s contents and gave it a taste. “It’s a meat stew. We don’t have much left in the fridge, so it’s the best I could do. Someone needs to make a grocery run.”

“I think Mammon was supposed to do that today.” Beel drew closer, hoping that Satan might let him try some. “What meat are you using?”

“You can’t tell?” Satan closed his book and placed it on the counter beside him. “I’m sure you’ll know once you taste it – _no_ , Beel. Wait for dinner.” Beel frowned as Satan chased him away from the pot, deciding to linger some distance away.

“But I’m really hungry,” he said, and Satan sighed.

Just then, Asmodeus entered the kitchen, humming to himself. “Oh, Satan! What are you cooking?” He sniffed the air and raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Is that…?”

“Could you look after the stove for a while, Asmo?” Satan interrupted, tilting his head surreptitiously towards Beel. Asmo got the hint and moved over to stand beside the pot, pinching the ladle between his fingertips. “Thanks. I need to meet someone for a bit, but I’ll be right back.”

“Who are you meeting?” Asmo asked as Satan made to leave, already looking through his phone. Beel was still hovering suspiciously close to the stove.

Satan paused and glanced back at his brothers. “Just a friend,” he said with a smile, and neither Asmo nor Beel questioned any further as he ducked out of the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know your interpretation on what happened to mc! c: i purposely left it open because hehe i'm quite curious to see what people think.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/dontenchantme)


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